


Wailing Woman

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Series: ColdWave Week 2018 [4]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Heck the Police, M/M, Protective Lisa, Protective Mick, Protectiveness, post-oculus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 07:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: [Day: Day 4: Jealousy/Protectiveness]Jitters isn't open at 1 am. Mick's not about to let the police remind Len, who just clawed back into existence.





	Wailing Woman

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like, in pursuing the ship, a lot of works (mine included) leave out Lisa or sort of have her a little too much in the background imo. I don't know if this follows that pattern or not, but I tried to include her more.

Lisa stares at Mick's knees. Posture straight. One hand over the other in her lap. It's  _weird_.

She glances at Mick's face once. Mick doesn't know what to do.

Suddenly, she stands and heads to the bathroom. The door closes quietly.

Silence twitches Mick's hands and eyes. He tries distracting himself with looking around, but the apartment hasn't changed much since he'd last visited. Except the second bedroom's door looms a little larger.

Lisa emerges without makeup. She jerks her chin at the door. Mick follows.

She mounts her motorcycle. He gets in a stolen car.

* * *

Lisa picks her way through the forest way outside Central. Mick, who's now had more experience with running through these things, goes as slowly as he dares. She still hasn't said a word since he'd arrived.

He should've told her sooner.

Lisa finally stops in a large clearing. Mick hovers at the edge.

The crickets chirp. A breeze brushes the canopy.

Mick jerks, but otherwise he's stuck watching helplessly as Lisa falls to her hands and knees.  _Screaming_.

Lisa Snart screams, possibly louder than she's ever screamed in her life. Her hair falls around her face, curling when she wheezes before― _damn_.

The reaction would've been the same, but Mick should've told her sooner. He should've―he should've done a lot of things.

Lisa dissolves into ragged sobs, switching between raw-throated cries to high-pitched whimpers, as if the woman and the girl in her are crying together. Mick wavers, but doesn't step forward.

Coward, coward, coward.

He only rushes over when Len staggers into the moonlight. But Len ignores him, clawing at the bark and branches until he can propel himself to his sister. His sister, who doesn't realize he's there until he collapses in front of her, wearing the same clothes he'd died in.

Lisa clenches around her sobs until she sees who it is. Mick's never seen her face like this: red-faced, almost purple, eyes swelling, spit and tears glistening on her mouth and cheeks. There's a strand of hair in her mouth, but she doesn't seem to notice.

Len brushes the hair away, wiping Lisa's tears with shaking hands. His eyes are half-lidded and glassy, face sallow. Mick's stuck hovering again.

Len pulls Lisa close. She clings to his back. Her crying's building up again.

"Don't cry, sis," Len murmurs, "Don't cry."

Of  _course_.

Leonard Snart will do anything for his baby sister.

Mick should've told Lisa sooner.

* * *

Jitters isn't open at 1 am. Mick turns on the lights and heads to the counter, leaving Len to gently rock Lisa in a corner table.

"Don't cry," he keeps whispering. He doesn't seem to know anything else.

Mick comes over with an iced vanilla latte and a caramel mocha. Kendra gave the team some pointers before she left, trying to make friends. He hopes they're not total shit.

When Mick sits, Len looks at him and says, "Don't cry."

Mick shrugs. "Don't think she's gonna stop anytime soon." Not that he blames Lisa. She's grown into her own person, but her childhood was built around her brother. She thought that foundation had crippled.

Len grabs his cuff. Mick flicks his eyes between them.

"Snart?" he says warily.

"Don't cry," Len replies with more emphasis.

Mick swallows. "I'm fine. Worry about your sister."

He tries pulling away. Len refuses.

Lisa's trying to even her breathing, but Len's shirt smells like ash. Another minute and she has to pull away. Unlike with Mick, when Lisa tugs, Len lets her go. She heads to the bathroom.

Len puts Mick's fingers to his pulse. Dangerously slow, but beating.

Mick thinks he makes a noise before clambering over the table. He doesn't much care right now, 'cause Len's meeting him halfway to make out in a coffee shop like teenagers.

Len's pulse quickens a little closer to normal. He digs his nails into Mick's temples. Mick  _definitely_ makes a noise.

Len's breath smells like smoke. Probably 'cause he'd burned. Blew himself up.  _Died_.

Mick collapses back in his chair with a curse. Len places his fingers over his wrist now. Still beating.

Lisa comes back. She's put on red lipstick, though Mick's not sure where she'd got it.

"Well, brother dear," she chirps through her still blotchy face, "That wasn't very nice of you."

She plops next to him and slaps Mick.

Len seizes Mick's elbows, blinking wide eyes at his sister.

"When did it happen?" Lisa asks flatly.

Mick looks at Len's pale hands. "It wasn't exactly―"

" _How long_?"

"...a year."

Lisa slaps him again. "Next time someone you like dies, let's see how you like it."

Mick nods. Lisa nods too before wrapping around her brother's arm and putting her cheek on his shoulder. She breathes out and doesn't look at Mick anymore. Len's definitely confused, but he's too exhausted to parse it out.

The door opens.

Mick turns and growls under his breath. 

"Place is closed, Snart," a cop snaps.

Slowly, Lisa raises her head with a smile. "We just wanted some coffee, Officer."

"Yeah, I can see. And now I can charge you with shoplifti―"

Mick twists his head gun against the bastard's forehead. "You're not touchin' him. Leave."

Presidential Pardon on Mick Rory wasn't bound to last anyway.

Lisa ends up turning the cop to gold. Quieter that way, she says. Deal with the Flash doesn't extend to  _her_ , anyway. Flash never specified, and the Rogues weren't even formed at the time.

"That's right, I haven't told you yet," Lisa says to Len, "I'm forming the Rogues like we talked about. We've got a  _golden_ roster lined up."

Len smiles as if waking from a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> I made the sentences choppy 'cause I thought it'd better suit the mood of the piece. I hope it came across that way.


End file.
